DR. MUELENBERG’S PRESCRIPTION.

As Ralph entered the west room, Mr. Cornwallis was saying:

“You see how it stands, Doctor. We can’t afford to go to Europe; and Canada, the poor man’s abroad, is no longer effective.”

“Here’s Norwood,” said the Doctor, looking quizzically at the young man. “There was a time when he helped us out splendidly with Miss Ruth.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Cornwallis, “and she has always felt so grateful and wanted to do something to repay you, Ralph. She thinks now if she had been here instead of in Canada when your little brother was hurt, she might have entertained him and kept him out of Schwarmer’s way.”

“Bless her heart; but I am the one that ought to have kept him out of the way of that superb idiot,” said Ralph with a glow of feeling. He was thinking that Ruth’s objection to going away might be grounded in a desire to be near himself, although he was aware that she had not been conscious of it, so quick had it been to expand and reach out into more generous motives.

“Now she thinks she might be able to save others by getting up picnics and things of that sort;” said Mr. Cornwallis shaking his head, “but we fear she is not strong enough for that yet—that it would bring on the old terror and do no manner of good. She doesn’t realize what it would be to fight against such a custom—a custom that was inaugurated when our New World began. It has grown to be a monstrous evil, but like many another serpent it has become so mixed up with business interests that it will be almost impossible to eliminate it. I have talked with more than one manufacturer, feeling there was no other way to rid ourselves of the vile Fourth of July abominations than by stopping their production and importation, but they will not give in. They will employ noted scientists to analyze their wares with the understanding that no germs of tetanus are to be found. They will throw dust into the eyes of the governing powers. They resent fiercely the least intimation that they are responsible for the killing or maiming of three or four thousand boys per year. They charge it to parents and teachers. One man swore at me when I approached him on the subject and asked if I didn’t know that there were danger traps all over God’s world and that a boy should not be let to plunge into the river until he knew how to swim. You see how it stands, Doctor—the powers of light against the powers of darkness. It’s a thing for the strong hand of government to take hold of instead of our frail little Ruth. It will take a long pull, a strong pull and a pull all together to accomplish anything of consequence. You remember the efforts made last year. They began with the Decoration Day slaughter. The ‘Divine alarm’ was sent all over the country and yet the list of the dead and hurt was beyond all precedent.”

“And this good old Quaker state,” replied the Doctor, “consecrated by the good old saint, William Penn, exceeds all others in Independence Day accidents, and this town appears to be the storm center of the whole. The gentle ‘Friends’ he left to carry on his work must be asleep and the fierce spirit of the ‘Lord’s Committee of Colonies’ must be awake and armed with the explosives which he tabooed with such good effect. The cases of tetanus I had here last year nearly drove me mad. I wanted to throw anti-toxin to the winds and turn mayor or missionary myself and take this beastly and idiotic custom by the horns. Call it patriotism! It’s bad enough to bring children into this dirty world, but to furnish them with instruments to introduce the worst kind of dirt—the baccili of tetanus into their sweet young flesh is deviltry or insanity, at least. It’s of no consequence so far as results go whether the wads in the blank cartridge are boiled or not. It is a fiend incarnate. No instrument could be more cunningly devised for the injection of poison into the human system. The flat head is like the head of a serpent. The small boy gives it a starter. It hisses and carries everything before it—pieces of flesh or clothing, soiled or unsoiled, but usually soiled. It buries and burns them deep in the flesh. The gash shuts up and they are left to fester there. Mien Gott! These are the things that are invented, manufactured and sold for innocent boys to play the deadly game of patriotism with. They are good for no other thing—they nor the toy pistol; and the wretch who invented them ought to be put into a house of correction and be kept there and preached to until he learns to set his wits at better things. The people ought to see to these matters. There are laws and laws shut up in your statute books. They want the spirit of flame put into them and the spirit of enforcement back of them.”

“I was advised when I first came to this country, to take lessons in American patriotism. Mien Gott! The lesson I have learned is that missionaries are needed in all the fields around about. I should say let Miss Ruth turn missionary—that is, if she has no longer a fear of that dreadful work.”

“Her fear of going away seems to be greater than the fear of the Fourth itself,” said Mrs. Cornwallis. “That’s the perplexing thing about it. That’s why we doubt the expediency of going at all. Whether the evil we fly to is greater than the evil we fly from, is the question. She is all we have left and we have been so very, very careful—afraid to mention the subject almost.”

“I have been expecting this puzzle in Miss Ruth’s case and I incline to take it as a healing sign,” said Dr. Muelenberg looking keenly at Ralph. “To engage in the work of stamping out this monstrous horror would be far better than ominous silence and the annual flight from it, for you, for her, for the people of the town and for the world, no doubt! But it will not do for Miss Ruth to go out alone. She must have some one with her, in heart and hand.”

“Here am I,” exclaimed Ralph, rising to the occasion and making his errand known. Mrs. Cornwallis was affected to tears when he promised to try to be a good son. She was thinking of her beautiful boy. Mr. Cornwallis gave a dignified consent and Dr. Muelenberg grasped his hand vigorously, saying:

“O! I suspected you, young man! I suspected you and I am glad my suspicions have proven true. I believe it will be for the betterment of all concerned.”

And so it happened that Ruth’s engagement proved to be a relief in more ways than one. It was a relief to herself because she could talk freely to Ralph. She could let her enthusiasm have full rein on this subject without arousing his fears for her sanity of mind. Any nervous symptoms that she might betray in so doing would not cause him the undue fright and solicitude that they did her father and mother. He would know that they meant she must be doing something for the cause so near her heart. It was certainly a relief to her father and mother, who had begun to admit at least to themselves (especially after Ruth’s disaffection for Canada) that the annual going away from home was taking the form of a cruel necessity. Yes, and it continued to be a relief in spite of the little flurry into which they were thrown a few evenings later on when Ruth and Ralph appeared before them hand in hand with the Rev. Dr. Normander smiling benignly in the background. They knew what it meant, although there were no wedding garments and the wedding feast was not prepared. Ruth pleaded that there was important work to be done. Ralph declared that he was “following Doctor Muelenberg’s prescription in not allowing her to go forth single-handed.”

It was enough. The two hands were joined then and there and before another morning dawned the bride and bridegroom had planned their Independence Day campaign.